Well now it's gone 2am on a Saturday night and I'm tidying the house while listening to Hefner's "Hymn For The Alcohol".

This is wrong in more ways than I can begin to describe.

Work related stuff: Took a step towards releasing something in the-web-project-who-must-not-be-named.

But until tomorrow, take it away Mr. Hayman...

"Don’t start me on the rum, Just because it makes me numb.
Start me on the whiskey I know whiskey is his drink.
You never drank it with me but now you drink it with him,
I’m not good enough for whiskey, not good enough for you."

Let’s start drinking wine, we used to all the time.
It used to go to our heads but then you went to his bed.
If the wine stains you lips red then tonight you might forget,
You might not go home to him you might stay here with me.
It is just wishful thinking that all this hard drinking might lure you back to my ramshackle stable,
There's no point in trying, the debutante was lying when she said that she did something that your lips could never do.